


Erik's Diary

by vfrankenstein



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: Eventual Gratuitous E/C Fluff, F/M, Fix-it fic, Leroux based
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:46:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vfrankenstein/pseuds/vfrankenstein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if during her two week stay in Erik's home, Christine had happened upon his diary? Would things have turned out differently if she knew exactly how much her actions affected him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Some Light Reading

**Author's Note:**

> Another of my old fics from ffn.net. Revising and rebooting this as we go. Feedback would be greatly appreciated.

Christine sighed, plopping down onto the small couch in Erik's sitting room. She had been down here a week with the strange man with the face of a demon and the voice of an angel who had become her jailer, and she was slowly coaxing him towards letting her go free. She was earning his trust, bestowing upon him little acts of kindness. She was a good actress, and was using her skills to lull Erik into a false state of security, hoping that by gaining his confidence she would also gain her freedom.

            Erik himself was currently out grocery shopping, leaving Christine alone in the House by the Lake. During these times he usually locked her in her bedroom, but had lately been permitting her to wander about the house, excepting certain rooms which he kept locked. Christine looked about her, trying to find something with which to amuse herself until Erik returned.

            Suddenly, Christine's gaze landed on a little black leather bound book resting on the coffee table. She didn't recall seeing it there before, and was curious as to what it might be. Picking it up, Christine flipped to a random page and gasped. She had been expecting printed words, but was greeted instead with Erik's spidery, childlike handwriting. Leafing through the book, she discovered it was all written in the same hand, using the same blood red ink. Curious, Christine flipped through the book until she found the date on which he had brought her here and began to read.

            _November 23_

_What joy! What ecstasy! Christine has seen Erik's face, yet has allowed him to kiss the hem of her dress! She tells him he may show her his face without fear, and if she should shiver when looking upon him, it is because she is thinking of his great genius! Oh, silly Christine, Erik knows you say this only out of pity, but perhaps in time it shall be true? No, Erik mustn't hope. Erik must never hope, for it is all too easy for Christine to break his wretched heart if he should hope!_

_November 24_

_Surely the angels have smiled upon me! Christine, without even knowing it, you have caused your poor devoted Erik such pleasure as to make him weep for joy. I was sitting in a chair by the fire, when all of a sudden Christine walked past me and as she did so,_ **_her hand brushed mine!_ ** _Oh, how Erik trembled at his angel's divine mercy! She did not mean to do it, of course, she did not even notice Erik's sublime happiness as he sat trembling in his chair, but she did it all the same! It was the first time a woman has touched me and not pulled away, shuddering with disgust. My own mother never kissed me, never! And sweet, dear Christine has brushed her hand to mine! At last I know what it is like to feel a woman's touch! Oh Christine, such a gift Erik shall cherish for the rest of his life!_

Upon reading these words, Christine's eyes filled with tears. “ _His own_ ** _mother_** _refused to kiss him? The poor man!”_ Christine thought, _“No. If I begin to pity the creature now, I'll never be able to leave him! Oh, he is pitiable, to be sure, but he is also cruel, and violent... But surely he was not always so? His own mother...”_ She quickly wiped away her tears and continued reading.

 

            _November 25_

_Oh, horror of horrors! Erik has made his angel unhappy! She cried in her room today, refusing to come out. Erik went out and bought her favorite pastries this evening. Perhaps she will forgive him if he apologizes at breakfast and leaves her to herself all day?_

_November 26_

_Today, Christine has taken me to Heaven and back! I had been hiding from her all day, scurrying about the house in the shadows like the rat I am, when loneliness overcame me and I peeked in at where she was sitting by the fire. She saw me, yet did not run away! Instead, she beckoned me to come closer! She asked me to tell her a story, so I sat at her feet and wove her a tale of mystery and wonder, and when it was over, she_ **_smiled_ ** _at me! A real, genuine, smile! And then, do you know what she said to me? Do you know what the dear Angel has said? She has said, “Erik, that was lovely.”_ **_Lovely!_ ** _She called my story_ **_lovely!_ ** _And Erik nodded very meekly and said “Thank you,” like he should and went to his room and wept, for her kindness made him so happy._

            Once again, Christine found herself tearing up at his words. Had her smile really had that effect on him? _“How is it that a smile and a simple compliment are enough to cause him to weep for joy? These are but ordinary acts of kindness that most men take without a second thought, but Erik weeps with happiness when I bestow them upon him. Does what I say and do truly mean **that much** to the poor man?” _ A solitary tear made it's way down her cheek and landed upon the diary. Christine turned the page and continued reading.

 

_November 27_

_Erik is living in a dream! Today, the dear, sweet girl has made Erik's dreams come true yet again! Erik was tired, so tired, yet once again, Christine requested his presence by the fireside. He was telling her a story, but he was so exhausted that as he did so he fell asleep. When he awoke, Christine was still there, and there was a blanket draped about Erik's body! And Erik had not suffered a single nightmare! Oh, if Erik could but spend each night upon the rug at the foot of Christine's bed, he would never have nightmares again for as long as he lives! He dreads going to bed each night, knowing the horrors he shall face, but Christine's presence is enough to drive away the nightmares. Oh, if only!_

Christine was sobbing openly now, with hushed, muted hiccups and tears streaming down her cheeks. Poor unhappy Erik! She'd had no idea that he suffered from nightmares. _“How could I be so cruel as to abandon him now? Oh, he was horrid when I took off his mask, but since then he has been nothing but kind! It has taken such coaxing to earn the man's trust, even this much. Oh, God, I cannot possibly bring myself to shatter that which I have worked so hard to gain! It would break his poor heart, and mine as well,”_ she thought. She was about to keep reading when she heard a voice from the doorway.

            “Christine?” Erik said, “Put down the book. You should not be reading something that makes you cry so. What are you reading, child? Let Erik see.”


	2. A Tantrum

Erik had crossed the room and was standing in front of Christine, holding out his hand for the book. She could not bring herself to give it to him, fearing his wrath upon discovering that she had been reading his diary. She just sat there, sobbing and clutching the book to her chest. Erik was growing concerned.

“What is it, Christine?” he asked, looking into her tear filled eyes, “Has Erik done something to upset you? Has he harmed you in some way?” With this, he fell before her on his knees, crying, “Oh Christine, Erik shall never forgive himself if he has caused you pain!”

“No, Erik,” Christine said through her tears, “Please, it's not your fault! Just... promise you won't be angry with me?” Erik's eyes grew wide with fear.

“What is it you mean to tell me, Christine? Have you done something Erik should know about? What is the matter?” He was twisting his hands together nervously, looking up at her with his terrified golden eyes. He was afraid of what she would say, afraid of what misery fate had decided to inflict upon him now. With trembling hands and hushed sobs, Christine held out the little black book.

Erik's jaw dropped. “My diary!” he thought, “How the hell did she get her hands on my diary!? Now Erik remembers, he was in such a hurry this morning to get to the market before there were too many people there, he must have forgotten to put it away! Oh, woe! Woe to wretched Erik! Christine shall never love him now that she knows what goes on inside his mind!”

With a shuddering sob that seemed to contain all the sorrows the world had ever known, Erik collapsed on the rug. He pounded his fists on the floor and shrieked with rage like a child that did not get its way. He could not comprehend anything outside of his own anger and shame. Finally, he had exhausted himself from crying, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

When he awoke, he was once again covered by a blanket. Christine sat on the floor beside him, reading a book. Acting on impulse, he snatched it from her hands. She gasped and looked at him, putting a hand to her heart. Belatedly Erik realized that the book he held was not his diary, but was in fact a collection of poems.

“Forgive me, Christine,” he said, handing the book back to her sheepishly, “I'd thought...”

“It's alright, Erik,” Christine said, “Your diary is on the table. I'm sorry for reading it, I was just so curious.” Erik frowned.

“Yes, Erik knows your curiosity well, Christine,” he muttered darkly, tapping his mask. He rose, took the diary from off the table, and retreated to his room. A moment later, Christine could hear muffled sobs coming from behind Erik's closed door.

“What am I to do?” Christine thought, “Do I go to him? Do I stay here? By staying with Erik, I loose everything I've ever known. But could I be gaining something more? Is it worth the risk? Perhaps not, but if I return to the surface world, Erik would be shattered! He needs me. He needs me.”

Christine rose, and with newfound determination, made her way towards Erik's bedroom door.


	3. Comfort and Compassion

            Christine pushed open Erik's bedroom door and walked inside. The room was dark. Erik lay in his coffin bed, curled up in a ball. His thin bony frame was wracked with sobs, and he was so absorbed in his crying that he did not notice Christine's presence until she gently laid a hand on his arm. Erik gasped and looked up at her, misery and despair evident in his tear filled golden eyes.

            But there was something else in those eyes as well. Hope. Timid, fragile hope, born of the fact that she was standing there. His angel, Christine, was standing there with her hand on his arm. Slowly, ever so slowly, she reached her other hand down, placing it on his mask. Erik shied away from her curious fingers, pressing himself into the cushioning of the coffin.

            “It's alright, Erik,” Christine murmured, “Will you let me?” He felt her fingers gently crawl under the edge of the mask and shivered from the sweet sensation of her touch.

            _“My cheek!”_ Erik thought, _“Her sweet, dear fingers are touching my cheek! Oh, how wonderful it feels! Please, Christine! Please keep doing this! Oh god, her fingers are so gentle...”_ His eyes closed and he nuzzled his face desperately into her hand, moaning softly.

            The black mask slipped slowly from Erik's face. Christine held her breath, willing herself not to react. _“He needs me now,”_ she thought, _“I have to be strong. I have to comfort my poor Erik. I must be here for him. He needs me.”_

            She laid her other hand on his forehead and gently traced her fingers over every last inch of his face. It wasn't half so frightening when not contorted with rage. Instead, he was sobbing. Sobbing with supreme and utter joy. _“Christine is touching my face!”_ he thought, _“My poor neglected face is being touched by the woman of my dreams! Oh, what joy! What splendor! Erik could die a happy man. But no! Erik must not die yet, now that he has just found happiness in life!”_

“Not too much now, Christine,” Erik mumbled, “You're going to kill me if you keep this up, Erik's poor heart isn't used to this much happiness, you see. Was that your plan all along, Christine? Kill Erik with happiness?” Christine abruptly stopped stroking Erik's face.

            “No Erik, please don't die!” she exclaimed, “I don't want you to die, Erik! Please...” Erik opened his eyes and looked at her.

            “Christine... does not want Erik... to die?” he asked, a puzzled look on his face, “Christine wishes... for Erik... to live?”

            “Of course!” she cried, looking into his golden eyes with concern. _“Does he think I wish him dead?”_ she thought, _“Where on earth did **that** come from?”_

“Erik would like to live, but not if he has to be alone. Will Erik have to be alone, Christine?” Erik asked, looking up at his angel with childlike curiosity. He nervously chewed on his lower lip; this was pressing his luck, flying too close to the sun, and he knew it. Christine felt a lump forming in her throat.

            “No, Erik,” she said softly, tears streaming down her cheeks, “You'll never have to be alone again.” Erik began trembling.

            “Has Erik done something wrong? Oh Christine, Erik is very sorry! You do not have to stay, please! The monster begs your forgiveness! Is it Erik's face that troubles you?” he said, groping about the bed, “Here! The mask! The mask shall protect you Christine! You needn't look upon Erik's poor face any longer.” With this he sat up and began putting on the mask.

            “Erik, please!” Christine cried out, making him stop, “I was not crying because of you, Erik, I was crying _for_ you! Oh Erik. Poor, unhappy Erik. What kind of life have you known? I'm here for you now, Erik. I'll always be here for you.” She wrapped her arms around him in a gentle embrace and pulled him close to her.

            Erik didn't move. He didn't even breathe. _“She's hugging me!”_ he thought, _“I've never had a hug before! And... she said she'd stay? For me? I won't have to be alone anymore! Erik shall be able to do anything with Christine at his side! Oh, I would even go out in broad daylight without my mask if it meant spending time with Christine. At last! At last Erik shall be a normal man! A normal man with a normal wife that he can take out on Sundays...”_ He began to sob once more, burying his face in Christine's neck. She rocked him gently, rubbing his back and humming a simple lullaby.

“Hear those bells ringing soft and low,

Bringing peace through the twilight glow,

Calling to everyone,

Night has begun,

Tired from your weary toil,

Day's work is done,

Hear them ring while my love and I,

Drift and dream to their lullaby.”

By the time Christine had finished singing, Erik was fast asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lullaby Christine sings is the Lullaby of the Bells from the 1943 film version of The Phantom of the Opera starring Claude Raines and Susana Foster.


End file.
